


one.

by twofourteen



Series: you may as well make it dance [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, Preseries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofourteen/pseuds/twofourteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“One line, nay. Two lines, yay.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	one.

They had been married just over a year when it had happened. She had come home, a little plastic bag from the pharmacy dangling off her fingers, a blush setting high on her cheek. He came in, right after, closing the door with his foot.

“Are we going to eat now or later?”

“The peeing on the stick should only take, what… five minutes?” She digs through the bag, throwing the bag of gummy worms at him and digs the box out among the new mascara and the bright pink nail polish. As she reads the box, she toes her shoes off, kicking them near the door into their shared pile . “I think if we throw the sammiches in for a quick heat up, they should be done by the time the pee stick tells me if have something in my oven. They can either be happy, celebratory or... non celebratory, sad sammiches. What do you think, honey bunny?” 

As he toes his shoes off, leaning over her to hang his hat on the hook and tossing the keys, he plants a kiss under her ear, “They will be happy either way. Celebratory because of a baby, or celebratory because we will get to try again.” With the last few words, he gently digs his fingers into her sides and smiles as she squeals, escaping his grasp.

“How about you don’t make me giggle like a spaz... you do realize I pounded back like a gallon of water to get this show on the road. You probably wouldn’t love me anymore if I peed myself at the age of 23.”

They make their way to the kitchen, throwing the subs, along with a few extra pieces of cheese, into the toaster oven. She leans against the counter, grabbing the mascara, nail polish, and pregnancy test, “So. I guess I should get on with it.” She pushes herself away from the counter and meanders towards the bathroom. As he begins to follows she turns around, and lets out a loud laugh, “As much as I love you, I need to pee in peace. The maneuvers may get a little awkward and I don’t need you judging me... don’t eat my sammich, carnivore...”

He stops short, laughs at her response and motions for her to continue on to their small apartment bathroom, “Remember to wash your hands when you are done, huh?”

\--

As she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, she looked up at him, smiled and blew some curls out of her eyes, “Set the egg time... hah. Get it. Egg timer? My eggs are the thing we are timing with... an egg timer... for... 3 minutes. And yes. I did wash my hands. Twice.”

He walked up to her, leaned their foreheads together, and planted a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, “I love you. Let’s go stare at that stick you just peed on.”

As the both crowded in the tiny, pale green bathroom they stopped and stared at the little stick, sitting on top of the torn apart box. She quickly put her hands over her eyes, hiding her face against his chest, “I was just kidding. I don’t think I can take it. You can tell me the results.”

He rubbed his hands up and down her sides, letting his chest rumble with a small chuckle. “I don’t know quite what I am looking for right now.”

She mumbled something into his shirt, and he gently poked her, “Words, darling.”  
“One line, nay. Two lines, yay.”

“Noted.”

As the stood there, leaning against the bathroom door, he started to run his hands up and down her arms, trying not to stare at the little stick. He looked at the little specks of toothpaste on the mirror, and the weird stain on the bathroom floor that was there when they moved in. When the egg timer buzzed, she jolted against him, and then breathed out a hushed, “Holy shit,” against his shirt.

He closed his eyes tight, planted a small kiss on her forehead (which ended up sort of half on her eyebrow, half her eye because of the eyes being closed), and looked down at the the little stick.

He exhaled, a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, “There’s two lines.”

“Oh. Oh my god.”

He tilted her chin up, planting kisses wherever they landed, whispering ‘I love you’ between each one. As a kiss landed on her lips, she started to cry.

“I... there’s a person in me. What the hell is that all about? Am I going to have to automatically wear mom jeans now? What if my boobs sag and you never want to have sex with me again?!”

He snorted into her shoulder, “That won’t happen, love.” He ran his knuckles down her shirt, across her shirt, ending with a palm against her stomach. He pressed his hand against her stomach, and she sniffled across the shoulder of his shirt.

“So, I guess those sammiches are happy then, huh?”

“Slight underestimate there, Bibi.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little blurb I started, when I was overcome with Mama Stilinski feels. Her name comes from a search of Swedish names; literally the first one I saw that I liked was 'Bibi'. I looked at the name, and oh hey, it means 'ALIVE'. I read that, and then fell into a bucket of tears. This may continue as random ficlets as time goes on. No beta, so if there are any dumb mistakes just let me know.


End file.
